


Beauty and horrors of war

by vika128



Category: Fury (2014), No Fandom
Genre: Blood, F/M, Love, Rape, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vika128/pseuds/vika128
Summary: During World War II, you live deep in the mountains, alone, to keep the horrors as far from you as possible.One day, when walking through the trees, an enemy soldier, covered in blood, appears in front of you.Who is he? Why is he here? Is there more of them? What is he gonna do to you?





	Beauty and horrors of war

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using the character of Brad Pitt form Fury (2014), but I don't follow the summary from the movie or anything . You don't need to see the movie, I just thought he looked hot in there so I'm using him. That's just something to be able to imagine him, but it's your fantasy now too so don't let me take away your dream man from you xD  
> Enjoy :)
> 
> You live in Europe by the way. He's an american soldier.

It was a sunny day of August 1945. The summer was slowly coming to an end, but the weather was still warm.

Your cottage was on a small clearing in the middle of a forest, full of tall deciduous trees, sun shining through the branches full of, for now, green leaves.  
Near the cottage, there was a small garden, fenced with wood. A stone well was located not too far from the cottage, on a near hill.  
Every morning, you got up early, to climb up and refill your water supplies.

Living like this, during a war, was peaceful, yet lonely.  
But there was no way you would leave this little heaven on earth to rejoin the horrors down in 'real world'.  
Nobody knew about you and it had to stay that way.

It was afternoon, could have been around 3 or 4 pm.  
You decided to take a walk in the woods, never going too far from your cottage, never going too close to the civilization.  
You were wearing a pastel green dress with white flowers. Your hair was tied in a low bun, but summer wind messed up the strands of your hair to cover parts of your face.

Walking through the trees, barefoot, you were enjoying shadows the high branches provided, from the sunbeams.

And suddenly, there he was. A soldier.

You stopped abruptly. 

What was he doing here? So far from everything? 

Is the front line coming closer? Are they gonna find you? 

Is there more of them close? Is he alone? He can't possibly be alone.

Than your eyes wondered to his uniform. It was dirty. He was covered head to foot in mud and blood.  
But that's not what disturbed you about the sight. You knew very well what war looked like.  
It was the uniform. An enemy soldier. An American.

Would he hurt you?

Men in the army are alone. And they miss a touch of a woman.  
That's where your mind went first. Surely, he would rape you.  
That's not all. There are probably more of them around.

You both just stood there, not daring to make a move, staring each other right in the eyes.

He was tall, and under all the dirt he must have been handsome.

Then you noticed something else. The blood he was covered in, it was his own. 

He was badly wounded. He was clutching his side, and was leaning against a tree. It looked like his legs barely still supported his weight.

'Help..' he whispered. It seemed the word leaving his mouth was painful. His breathing was unsteady.

You didn't know what to do.

If someone found out you helped an enemy soldier, you wouldn't get away with it.  
Probably get killed for treason.

'You.. probably.. don't under..stand a word I'm.. saying..' he continued after another moment of silence, still struggling to speak.  
His face was screwed up with pain. It looked like he was going to collapse to the ground any second.

War. It's killing people. It's taking husbands away from their wives. It takes sons away from their mothers. People die every day for whatever stupid reasons.  
And this horrible sight in front of you.  
The man in front of you was in pain, and would definitely die without help.  
This isn't what life's supposed to be. Killing each other because of where you were born, because of politics, that's not right.  
You couldn’t just let him die. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself. 

And the next second, as his knees failed him, and he almost collapsed, there you were, by his side, supporting his weight.

He was tall and heavily muscled, and on any other day, he must have been a strong and handsome man. But in this moment, his body was shaking, and you weren't sure, if even with your help, he would be able to get to your cottage.

The whole way, he was stumping, coughing and soon, your dress was as bloody as his shirt.  
His face was pale. He must have lost a lot of blood. 

What would you do if he now collapsed onto the ground? There was no way you could get this giant back home all by yourself.

The way seemed infinite. His heavy weight on your shoulders soon become painful, and he appeared almost unconscious. His feet moving was more of a reflex than an action.

But soon enough, you entered the small cabin.  
It only included one kitchen with an old couch near a fireplace in the center of the room, and your bedroom.

You placed the man on the couch. 

It was starting to get dark outside. A beautiful sunset was not visible, however, from your cabin because of the good coverage of the trees. You only saw a dim, orange light, which managed to shine through the trees inside the room.

The man lying in front of you was now looking barely alive, or nearly dead.

His wound needed to be looked at, if he was to wake up next morning.

You tried to remove his shirt, as you needed to check his side belly he had been clutching the whole time. 

You lifted it a bit, not really knowing where the bloody dirty flesh ended and the shirt began. 

It looked like he had been shot. Not just with any rifle, but with a powerful shotgun. 

The bullet, if there only was one, seemed to exit at his back, as it was bloody and messed up too.

You weren't a doctor, so there was only so much you could do to help him. 

You removed the shirt completely, and started clearing the wounds with previously boiled water, as he quietly moaned, pale as a corpse, and sweaty from the fever.

It was gonna be a long night.


End file.
